


The Forger

by Lizard501



Series: The Criminals of Mousedom [1]
Category: The Great Mouse Detective (1986)
Genre: Badly injured though, Blood and Violence, Crime, F/M, Gen, Implied/Referenced Torture, Main Character is an OC, Multi, Murder, One Shot Collection, Other, Past Torture, Politics, Possible smut in future chapters, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Ratigan's Alive, Rating is just in case, Smuggling, Thievery, Torture, Worldbuilding, a lot of OCs - Freeform, thugs - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-06-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24430648
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizard501/pseuds/Lizard501
Summary: He might as well have sold his soul to the devil, but where else was he to go? Compared to others in the business, he was fresh, even if skilled. He only knew a few of the names of those who could potentially take him in to learn more. Just one rumor changed it, a rumor that seemed to get dismissed, but enough was there that it seemed better than the other little options he could have taken.Besides, who wouldn't want to have the claim to have been one of the first to join Ratigan during his recovery period?
Relationships: Padraic Ratigan & Original Character(s), Padraic Ratigan/Original Character(s)
Series: The Criminals of Mousedom [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1764295
Kudos: 2





	1. Newcomer

He could feel all of the unseen eyes watching him as he waited for the older rodent in front of him to judge his worthiness. He shouldn’t be surprised that he was being watched by others he couldn’t watch back. What crime boss of London’s street would just be alone in a room with a complete stranger, even if he was the Napolean of Crime? 

“Well now, why don’t you explain to me why someone of your… skills, is so determined to join me after recent events?” 

He straightened up upon the rat’s question, Ratigan’s gold eyes watching his every move. His own eyes could still the slight hint of wrapping underneath his rich clothing, the professor’s position still confident, but leaning to one side. 

A year after Ratigan failed attempt to take the Queen’s place, and the rat was still recovering. 

“There are rumors one hears, naturally,” he started, trying his best to keep calm, “One of them being of your status. It’s a rare one to hear and even fewer believe the rumor if they even manage to hear it. But I? I notice the names that have come up in the papers about more recent crimes. Crimes of your own style, and names that were known to work for you. William Morris was one, after all, wasn’t he?” He took in some pleasure at the rat’s ear slightly twitching at the name. “You’ve already begun to make a return. Why should I join others who would soon regret not looking into that one little rumor they’ve dismissed?” 

Ratigan stared at him, silent. He tried his best to not panic. He had tried to do as much research as he could, and his impression at first had been that Ratigan was loud, brash, made a statement in every movement he made. Instead, he was faced with this quiet, waiting rodent, he was at a disadvantage. Once more, should he had really been surprised given the events before this moment?

“I see,” was all that he was given before standing up and a proud smile spread across Ratigan’s face. “Expect further orders soon then, Mr. Carter.” And with that, Professor Ratigan waved his hand in dismissal as he walked through a nearby door. The mouse was almost sure he saw someone else in the room it lead to but wasn’t allowed to think further on it as several other mice entered the room through several openings that he hadn’t seen when he had arrived. 

Earl Carter, a mere lad of 19 years old with brown eyes, freckles, and light brown fur, felt like he just sold his soul to the devil but couldn’t stop the breath of relief that escaped him. Yesterday, he was the forgotten younger son of a failed merchant, known only to his former employer who finally caught onto him pocketing profits. Now… now he found himself a newcomer to the much larger part of the underworld, having his shoulders patted on by his new co-workers and shaking hands as each one of them greeted him and made their estimations of how long he’d last as Ratigan’s newest henchmen in this new chapter. 

It was too late to turn back now. 


	2. Equality

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Earl always thought that the world criminals made for themselves had a much better sense of equality. His new co-workers disagree as they try to learn more about him.

“So, what brought you to this line anyhow?” 

Earl looked up from his unpacking, looking at the short mouse that only went by “Red” among the gang. Another reason he had chosen Ratigan, there were still old talks about how his crew always had someplace to rest their head. He had almost been afraid that with Ratigan being more secretive about his state of wellness that such a luxury would be gone, but never had he been more glad to have been wrong of his doubts. 

“You know, the usual. Desperation, poor living conditions, needed and wanted stuff,” he answered, finishing his unpacking into the small chest at the end of his, and Red’s, bed. The room wasn’t much to speak of, four bunk beds filling up space. Still, it was better than sleeping on the ground. 

“Bullshit.” 

Earl looked over at the lizard that was whittling, unable to see what the intended shape was still. 

“Pardon?” 

“You talk and dress too nicely,” Red explained, practically chewing on his cigar. 

“Show,” the newcomer explained, a blank look on his face. “My previous employer was all about show and no meaning. These nice clothes? They’re made of very cheap fabrics. The talk? All the better to convince people to give more money for the goods.” 

“You still seem to know a good deal for a simple forger.” 

“Father was a merchant… and a really bad one. Never an equal footing,” Earl grumbled. 

“Good luck finding that here,” Bill muttered, holding his dagger up. Earl blinked, looking back at the lizard. 

“What? Equal footing? I at least know the employers aren’t too picky if your here. Decent equal opportunity already there.” He was greeted back with the room full of mocking laughter, the mouse now frowning as he looked at all of his bunkmates. 

“Lad, for someone who did enough research to get the Professor to take ye, you sure have a lot to learn,” the mouse across from him, a taller one that the others called ‘Dagger,’ said, a mean grin on his face. Earl didn’t say anything, feeling the eyes on him once more. “How old are you, freckles?” 

“Nineteen.” 

He took notice of how everyone froze before biting his cheek. Maybe he should have lied? 

“Pretty young for a forger…” Bill said slowly, looking at him in a strange manner. “When did you start?” 

“... Thirteen?” He tried to reprise his urge to gulp as they all stared at him. “I mean, that was really when I started to sell the fake and sign with other’s signatures so-” 

“Alright, lad, what are the big names you know about the underworld? Aside from the Professor, of course.” Earl wasn’t sure how to take the intense stares the room was giving him, clenching his fists into the blanket beneath him on the bed. 

“Well, there’s Captain Doran, The Dead Hares, and the Knoxs.” Judging by the others’ reactions, that wasn’t a good enough answer. 

“Lad…” Dagger began, his look towards Earl almost making his stomach curl. “You have a lot more to learn than we thought before you are even close to being on equal footing. Come on, we’re heading to the Trap.” 

“The what?” 

\---

He blinked as he stared at the mug the others had ordered for him, having a hard time listening to each of them explain the big names, more than he could possibly hope to remember in one night. Almost the whole group from the room was there except for Bill. 

“Why didn’t Bill come in with us?” he asked once there was a break in the lecture. The group stared at him, a few with tight expressions. 

“He’s not allowed to come into the pub,” Red explained, causing Earl to sneer. 

“Because he’s a lizard-” 

“No, because the lout got too handsy with one of the performing girls and they have quite the protection.” Earl looked to the three white-furred mice ladies that were on stage upon Red’s correction, quickly looking back away as he felt his face heat up at the sight of the mouse in blue’s legs. 

“That… that’s what I meant by equal footing, back in the room,” he said shakingly, gripping his mug tight. “Instead of being not allowed in because of his species, he’s not allowed in because he brought the rules.” The others at the table shifted uncomfortably, eyeing each other. 

“Anyone can be our boss, regardless of species, our co-workers could be anyone, and-” 

“You’re really into this equality thing, aren’t you lad?” Dagger asked, once more giving that look that curled Earl’s stomach. 

“Who wouldn’t?” 

“Trust us Freckles, equality here is just as bad as it is elsewhere.” 


	3. Blood

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ratigan makes a strike and Earl deals with his first 'what the hell' moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Mild torture warning for this chapter.

“Here you are, sir,” he said, handing over the papers. 

Ratigan took them, smiling wickedly as he looked them over on his throne. This was the image that the mouse had been more expecting when he had first gone to see becoming one of Ratigan’s henchmen. Earl found himself in quite an advantage at least with his skills as a forger for Ratigan, at least for timing. However, timing also meant that forging wasn’t the only skill he had to build up in his new ‘employment.’ 

“Excellent,” Ratigan let out, his smile cruel as he read through them, the other henchmen all looking up. “We strike tonight!” 

Several members cheered loudly, some even going out of their way to throw their hats in the air. Earl, however, eyed the members that didn’t and instead remained quiet in the crowd’s background. He took notice that they were the ones that were going along with the professor to deal with, knowing what was the exact circumstances that they were going to be in. He knew enough of the details to know that someone from the outside was going to join them, but he couldn’t get a clear enough answer from the others. 

And asking Ratigan might cost him his head. 

Later that night, a lone figure remained in his home, clutching a gun in his lap, staring at the door. He couldn’t keep still in his seat, his breathing uneven as he waited for someone or at least something to walk through that door. He didn’t so much fear that he was in danger. No, he feared how he was going to die. 

Surely, he’d be able to live a little bit longer if he got rid of whichever one would come through the door tonight? 

It turned out it wasn’t the door he should have been watching as he turned around too late at the sound of soot coming down the chimney, an arm wrapping around his throat.

\----

“Nice save, Freckles,” Red whispered as the young mouse brush off the dark soot from his pants after they had their target tied up to a worn wooden chair. 

“How often does this guy clean his chimney, once every decade?” the mouse muttered, earning a low chuckle from Dagger. 

“Excellent work there, gentlemen,” Ratigan said, leaning to the side with his cane as he pulled out a watch. “Even with Mr. Carter’s slight mishap with the chimney-” Earl looked away in embarrassment as he felt Ratigan’s glare at him. “-we still have three minutes to spare to make Whiskterton’s remaining life horrible. If one of you will keep watch at the window.” With that, the rat took out a small knife, smirking as the tied-up victim struggled before tutting.

“Now, now, Whiskerton, you really should have realized that there are other means to enter and be rid of you aside from just walking through the front door,” Ratigan said, walking a tiny bit closer with the knife before rapidly slashing it across the defenseless mouse’s chest. 

Earl felt the blood drain from his face as he watched his boss continuously slash at Whiskerton, blood seeping through the mouse’s clothing. He felt a shiver run down his spine as he found it hard to look away as Ratigan proceeded to cut into the victim’s ears and face with the knife, almost as if the criminal mastermind was sculpting clay. 

Those three minutes felt like years to Earl before Red shook him out of his frozen state. 

“She’s here, Boss!” Red hissed out, Ratigan smirking as he stood back up. Earl felt his throat choke up as Whiskerton looked entirely different as blood dripping down the deep cuts in his face, what remained of his craved ears twitching as he barely showed signs of life. 

“Everyone, get out as fast as possible, NOW!”

Earl barely had enough time to scramble out of the building with the others before the group managed out the door and into the street, the young mouse flying into the pavement with several fo the others as the sound of glass breaking filled the air. A mere few seconds later, an explosion echoed from the room they had left the barely alive mouse in, Earl, covering his ears at the sound before noticing Ratigan standing back up and dusting his jacket off to greet a figure in front of the rat’s gang members. 

“Eva, Eva, your timing is impeccable as always,” Ratigan announced, smirking. Earl blinked as he looked at the gerbil women dressed in men’s clothing, her mousy brown hair tied in a ponytail under a green hat. She had a clear frown on her face before grabbing one of the Professor’s wrists and dragging him in a hurry down an alleyway. Earl found himself getting grabbed by Red and Dagger as the rest of the gang followed after them, no one pausing as they navigated the dark streets back to the hideout. 

“Blimey Paddy, the bloody ‘ell you doin’ out here?” she growled, Earl’s ears perking up at the strange accent that came from her. 

“Oh, you thought I’d let you have all the fun in taking care of Whiskerton?” 

Earl found himself nearly tripping as the other members went off in different directions. He hesitated for a moment before following Red, figuring that following his boss and the gerbil woman wouldn’t be ideal to keeping his life or freedom. 

“Red, who was that?” he asked as they paused behind a trash bin, panting. 

“Evans Knox.” 

“That was one of the Knoxs?!” 

“Aye, and keep it down, will ye?” the shorter mouse said, looking around the corner to make sure they weren’t followed by the cops. “They also had a hit out on that Whiskerton fellow, so the boss wanted to try and get in a few lashes of his own. Speaking of which, how ye holding up after that?” 

“The bloody hell did I witness?” 

“Alright, good, you had your moment then,” Red huffed out, leading the way back to the hideout with Earl following close behind. 


	4. Old Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Older members are rare, but at least they have a lot of knowledge and stories to tell.

“Alright, so this one was from back when I sailed for this one bloke.” 

Earl looked up as one of the other mice showed off a tattoo of a mermaid, the thug flexing his arm. He huffed as he watched the others at the table make their comments on it before one of the older ones shook his head and rolled up his own sleeves.

“Got this back when I worked for the Puppeteers.” 

Earl took in the detail of the odd tattoo, an image of a doll tangled in a mess of red threads on the older mouse’s shoulder. Another one, much younger in comparison, right next to the presenter gasped and quickly forced the other’s sleeves down. 

“The bloody hell you thinking of showing that around here!?” he hissed, causing Earl’s ears to perk up. 

“Who are the Puppeteers?” he asked. Several heads turned to look at him, most of them wide-eyed before Dagger coughed and gripped Earl ono the shoulder tightly as he looked back over to the older mice. 

“Eh, don’t mind Freckles here too much, Charlie. New blood in the gang and all,” he said. Earl frowned as he looked to the others for an explanation. ‘Charlie’ merely smoked on his cigar, his gray eyebrows furrowed. Earl was rather impressed that there was anyone in the criminal world that had gotten as old as the mouse, though he guessed being well-versed in medicine was something ideal to have to keep your life in this type of work. 

“Boyo, the keyword in that sentence isn’t ‘are,’ it’s ‘were.’ Who  _ were _ the Puppeteers,” Charlie corrected, leaning back in his chair. "They were an old gang before Ratigan, Doran, the Hares, or even the Knoxs made it big. Ran by mostly doctors. Messy bunch, the way they did their work. You worked for them, you had to get that tattoo.” Charlie proceeded to motion to his now covered shoulder. “Marked you as one of their own. They’re no longer around though. Maybe for better, maybe for worst.” 

“What happened to them?” Earl asked quietly, leaning forward with wide eyes. He tried to shake Dagger’s tight grip on his shoulder off and ignore the shaking heads from the others. 

“The leader at the time, mouse by the name of Smithers, he made the biggest mistake of his life and the gang’s history. The consequences didn’t destroy them all, but what remained of them were lost and trying to hide from quite some time.” Earl stared as the old mouse seemed to daze out as he kept on talking. 

“That night… was terrible, but I’ll never forget it. There was this gang starting out and growing dangerously close to the boss’s turf. He wasn’t too happy with it. So he looked into the leader, found out where he and his little family lived at the time. Now this leader, he had this little wife, pretty thing, and four kids, one of them a little girl. One night, when he was out, Smithers took some of us and the other doctors out to that house. I and this other boy at the time stayed on guard outside. But I could still hear that woman’s screams. I made my mistake that night, I tried to look through one of the windows to see what of going on…” 

Earl gulped, a shiver running up his spine. 

“They had cut her wrists open, tied these thread tightly around her wrists. Her back… Smithers was having it cut open to-” 

“Charlie, please, good Lord, please, stop. No,” one of the other mice at the table insisted, his fur looking pale as he shook the old thug out of his daze. “Jesus Christ, Freckles, never blimey ask that shit ever again!” 

“Duly noted,” Earl chocked out, his own face feeling cold. 

“Anyhow, rival leader came back to see his little wife strung up like a puppet in their house. Smithers thought that’d send the message enough. Instead, he’s now rotting in his grave with his own intestines having been wrapped around his neck.” 

“Goddammit, Charlie.” 

“How did you live?” 

“I was the one that told Lachlan where the hideout was. I went to work for Ratigan after he rose to power to keep my head. Like to think the medical things I learned with the Puppeteers gives me a good place in his numbers compared to the uncertainty with the Knox gang.” 

The table went quiet, Earl feeling glares pointed at him as he still soaked in everything Charlie had told. 

“... So… what about the orphan and widows that he drowned?” 

“Freckles, for the love of God, please stop asking Charlie shit.” 

“Oh let the boy learn,” Charlie hissed before looking back at the forger. “Now, for the sake of the rest of these cowards, I’ll leave out the worst details. Now, let me just say this was a two job thing. This wasn’t something that was over the course of his time in power. Another thing, it’s… well-” Charlie paused, looking around the pub before keeping down to a whisper. “-exaggerated. Whatever number you’re thinking, trust me, it’s actually a lot lower. Pretty much, one job happened to have us trying to figure out what to do with the kids of one of the targets we had already killed, so just to make sure it wouldn’t bite him back like say… kids grow up and want revenge, so he threw them into the Thames and they drowned. Another job consisted of trying to grift an old widow and, you guessed it, he did her in by drowning her. It got exaggerated, and now it’s part of the song, and here we are.” 

“That’s… actually kind of disappointing,” Earl said slowly. 

“You rather I talk about the Puppeteers would leave out each of their victims for targets to find again?” 

“NO!”

“Oh, bloody hell no!” 

“No thank you!” 

Several voices spoke up at the table, Dagger and half the table shaking their heads rapidly in protest of the offer. Charlie gave a chuckle as Earl shifted in his seat, his expression tight. 

“Now how about I tell you about how the Professor planned out the Tower Bridge job?” 

Earl perked back up, leaning forward as the old mouse began to talk once more to take in everything that was explained to him. 


End file.
